


do you... well... i mean... i could give you a massage?

by edgeofthewall



Series: bellarke tumblr prompts [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgeofthewall/pseuds/edgeofthewall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: "Do you... well... I mean... I could give you a massage?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you... well... i mean... i could give you a massage?

First the door slammed shut. Next she would throw her duffel bag onto the floor right about…. yup, there was the thunk he’d grown to expect. She would start cursing loudly as she got her coat off, and within minutes an angry streak of blonde hair would fly through the living room to get to the shower.

Honey, she was home.

Today, however, she didn’t immediately go to the shower, instead electing to flop down on the opposite end of the couch, making herself comfortable as she stretched out and rested her head against the armrest.

"Hey," Bellamy greeted absently, barely looking up from the paper he was grading. He liked the subject, but when he signed up to be a TA, he hadn’t expected to get paired with the most sexist asshole of a professor he’d ever dealt with, and as a result, a lot of the material he had to grade was sexist as well in an effort to suck up, which made for long nights of Bellamy grumbling and crossing out offensive sentences with angry red lines.

Clarke didn’t answer, and for a brief second Bellamy thought she had immediately fallen asleep. But when he looked over, she was staring at the ceiling, the look in her eyes immediately making him put his papers down so he could turn to face her. “Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

Octavia’s suggestion that he put up an ad for a roommate on Craigslist had seemed foolish at the time, but he was glad he did. When Clarke responded, and he’d learned that she was a double major in premed and art, and that she refused every cent her mother offered her, instead working a crappy barista job to pay her bills, he’d known she was the right fit. Now the sounds of her storming in and cursing about her mother’s attitude during her observations had become something he’d expected and almost looked forward to everyday.

This silence, however, was terrifying.

"I saw a patient die today," Clarke said softly, eyes never leaving the ceiling. "My mother diagnosed it as cancer, when I thought it was a more rare strain of a virus. The chemo wiped out her immune system, and the virus took over, and now she’s dead. All because my mother wouldn’t trust my judgment."

Bellamy didn’t even know where to start. He’d always wondered how Clarke was ever going to manage being a doctor.  She felt so much for everyone she came in contact with, and he couldn’t picture her being able to calmly tell someone they were going to die. He knew that a loss like this was a personal loss to her.

"Do you…. well…. I mean…. I could give you a massage?"

Clarke’s eyes snapped down from the ceiling in surprise, and to his relief, she smiled.

"It’s my heart that hurts, Bell. Not my feet." 

As she spoke, however, she kicked off her white sneakers and plopped her feet down into his lap, and Bellamy immediately started working at the sore muscles.

"Thank you, Bellamy."

He smiled, eyes tracing the length of her neck as she dropped her head back in pleasure when he worked at a particularly tough spot.

"Anytime, Clarke."

**Author's Note:**

> who do i love more, medstudent!clarke or ta!bellamy who knows not me


End file.
